I don’t wear makeup.
I don’t go to the gym and sweat myself out for a killer body. I didn’t win the genetic lottery. I don’t have perfect skin or a small nose. I don’t have long lashes or pinkish, full lips. I don’t have an ideal height or weight. I don’t have perfect teeth, my eyes aren’t even symmetrical.
I might not meet up the beauty standard ever — no matter what I do. My parents might be the only people who ever tell me that I am pretty and believe it. This is okay. My life isn’t about trying to be a kind of beautiful that falls into a very specific, physical standard.
My life is about being the friend people run to for comfort and support after a long day. My life is about remembering what matters; learning about the people who I love, making them happy. My life…
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